Aftermath
by xxTwasADreamxx
Summary: She was left standing, alone, in the aftermath. Rated Mature for violence, sex, language. SayidxOC
1. Prologue

**Hi to all who have been awesome followers to this story so far! I had put this on hiatus what feels like forever ago, because I just wasn't happy with it. I feel like my writing style had evolved and I wasn't connecting with Ava anymore, and felt like my lovely Elliot and Sayid deserved better. I've finally had the time to do some rewrites in a different POV, with a new character, so I hope everyone will stick with me and if not thanks for sticking with the old story anyway!**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. **

Prologue:

So_ this is hell._

The thought came to Elliot calmly, curiously, floating in on a gentle mist. She regarded the scene around her almost passionlessly, roaming eyes taking in the rotting branches twisting around her feet.

Interesting. She expected more fire and brimstone, if anything.

She stepped forward and filtered screams made their way to her ears, piercing her already throbbing brain. She started walking faster, feet sinking into deep dirt and mud. Screams made sense. Screams were associated with hell.

"Help!" someone shouted, and her breath stuttered as she stopped just clear of the edge of the trees.

A beach. A sandy floor, debris littered and shining. A great engine is sputtering to a stop near the clear blue water, and it is like she is dreaming. This cannot be real. People are everywhere, some lying eyes closed and sand scattering their clothing, some sporting various injuries clotted with blood. One woman is screaming at the top of her lungs, and Elliot winces, fighting off the sudden urge to scream right back.

"Dude, are you okay? Your arm is dripping blood!" a large man with curly hair and a kind (too kind) face calls over to her.

She purses her lips, eyes snapping from the man and his blonde, pregnant companion to her own arm, which, yes, is dripping blood. Interesting, again.

She can feel the slight sting now, and touches the wound cautiously, shrugging when the man repeats his question.

"What happened?" she asks instead, because she doesn't like to not know. She is used to being the one and only person in the know, not the one and only person outside of it. It makes her feel woozy.

"Our plane crashed," the man stares at her with wide, bemused eyes. "Are you-"

But Elliot doesn't hear him anymore. One word is running through her mind on a speeding train, pounding at her skull until she wants to keel over and be sick.

_Finn._

Her eyes search for the familiar pale skin pale hair pale lips, desperate and quick even though she holds herself frozen and stony. And...there. There he is, sitting next to a man with cuts on his cheek and beneath the shadow of one with coffee light skin.

She walks briskly over to them, the whole time his name a chant, a prayer in her head. He's alive. And so is she. So everything will be fine.

The moment his eyes alight on her, he breaks into a dashingly white toothed grin, pale hand coming up to wiggle their fingers in a wave. She does not show that she was worried, and neither does he.

Until he glances at her arm, and raises an eyebrow, and remarks, "You're bleeding."

Her brow furrows in momentary confusion before the slight pain comes back to her, and touches one of her own pale fingers to the sticky blood. "I'm fine. Are you alright?"

Her english accent stands out in stark contrast to his American one, but it is clear to anyone that they are a pair, one and the same.

"These two seem to think I've gone into shock," Finn snorts, and Elliot bares her teeth back at him.

"I don't think you seem to grasp the extent of the situation. People die when they go into shock. We can't just let you-" the scruffy man beside Finn starts up for, judging from the roll of the boys eyes, not the first time.

"I'm fine, seriously. Not everyone fucking freaks out like whats-her-name," he snarks at the man, gesturing to the screaming girl.

The man sighs, looks up at the darker skinned one, who is staring with narrowed eyes at the two teens.

Elliot stares back for a moment, but it's long enough. His dark eyes, dark as the forest she emerged from, catch on her blue ones, blue as the ocean they bracket, and then they tear their gazes away.

"Fine. If you're sure. Call me if you feel yourself shutting down, though," the other man sighs, stands, towers. "I'm Jack, if you need me."

When Elliot looks back towards the other man again _dark eyes dark room dark face_ he is already gone.

She crumples gracefully next to Finn, fingers digging into the warm sand. "So?"

"So," he replies, and they sit, together, watching the world before them go up in flames.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi! Another re-written chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

Chapter One:

Survival is a funny think, Elliot thought to herself when they found out the transmitter didn't work. Survival is fickle, and violent. More are born than can survive, that's what Darwin said, and it's about a constant fight against the unfair circumstances to which people are born. It's often the smarter, and the richer, and the prettier that survive, not the nicest, and so survival for Elliot was not about being nice. She did not kid herself, or anyone around her, that she was a _very nice girl_.

That's why she had taken to Finn. Or rather, Finn had taken to her, because he didn't want bullshit and she didn't give it. So when the skinny, eyeliner clad pale American had decided to befriend her, she decided to give in. And that was that.

After all, she thought now, it was nice to have a friend. Especially when you find yourself stuck on a deserted island with no transmitter.

Boredom was what they fought against, so eventually Finn convinced her to take a sit by the water so he could people watch this shit show. She let him, let the waves roll by their backs and lick her fingertips, let the paperback copy of _Wuthering Heights_ she found get a bit waterlogged.

Until the fighting began.

Then she watched.

She liked to watch games about survival.

Two men, the darker skinned, suspicious one from the first day and the other a blonde with a heavy Southern drawl, were exchanging punches on the sand. A crowd had gathered, and when Elliot glanced to her left she saw the hungry grin of her friend as he looked on, as the sand blew sideways, as the water lapped her fingertips.

Neither was winning, but if Elliot was to bet on one, it would be the blonde. He had something feral about him, something animal, and she liked animal. She could understand it, at least. The other was more guarded, kept and locked up tight, controlled. She liked that too, but not in other people.

But then the man, Jack, a doctor Finn had informed her yesterday, broke up the fun. And she went back to her book, so she didn't even notice when he came back because she hadn't even noticed he had left.

"They need help fixing the transmitter, and I told them you could probably do it," Finn pouted, because he knew she wouldn't like to be involved and would be mad at him for suggesting it.

He kicked the sand by her feet, and she stared. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to go home more than she had thought. Maybe he was more worried than she had guessed.

"Fine," she answered finally, and he stopped kicking, looked up at her with baby wide blue eyes, so similar in color to her own.

"Seriously?" he raised his eyebrows, bit his pointer finger.

She shrugged, stood and followed his now bouncing form over to the dark man from the fight and the large, curly haired man from yesterday. The one with the kind face. Elliot hated kindness.

They sat on two pieces of driftwood, weathered and cracked with salt water, and the dark one was fiddling with the transmitter.

Finn cleared his throat and shoved Elliot forward. She resisted the urge to punch him in the nose and squinted at the transmitter instead, wondering why the hell they would need her help if the dark man was already toying with it.

"This is her," Finn supplied when they didn't look up, and the big man finally met her eyes and grinned, friendly.

She narrowed her eyes.

"We could use all the help we need with this thing, and Finn said you were a genius with these things," the man said, words bouncing out of his mouth too fast.

She shrugged again, sat next to Finn on another piece of driftwood. Didn't like the bare scratch of it on her legs.

"Big book," the man nodded towards Brontë's masterpiece, smiling wider. "My name's Hurley, by the way. This is Sayid. Sorry, I forgot what Finn said your name was?"

"Elliot," she says without looking, fingers running through the soft pages of the novel.

"Cool. How old are you guys, anyway?" he smiled more and wider and Elliot absolutely hates it.

"Eighteen. Well, Ellie's seventeen, the baby," Finn grinned at her, reached over to ruffle her long hair.

"I'll cut your fingers off," she murmurs low enough for only Finn to hear, but from the way the dark man's (Sayid, his name, he had a name of course) hands stilled on the transmitter she knew he heard.

"Here. You can try making this work, if you're as smart with electronics as your friend says you are," Sayid hands her the transmitters, and she can hear the insult coating every syllable.

Their fingers brush together and he pulls away fast, faster than anything she's seen, and she snatches the transmitter to her chest because she doesn't want to touch him anyway.

Her fingers are clutched around the warm plastic as she reaches to fiddle with the jumble of wires, and a line pops up on the screen, black and flat.

"There. No service," she says, handing back the transmitter and picking up her book again.

That's as far as her services go.

"Dude. How'd you do that?" Hurley is staring wide eyed at her, and she drinks it right up.

"Elliot good at doing shit to electronics," Finn tells him, almost proudly, and her mouth quirks up against her will. He forgot to mention her mostly illegal proclivities, and how that was what led her to electronics, and hacking, in the first place.

"We need a signal. Maybe if we go higher," Sayid trails off, and she finally looks up, following his gaze to the top of the mountain that outfits the middle of the island like the star at the top of a Christmas tree.

"Worth a try," she mutters, standing up and brushing sand off her bare legs, fingers still running over the soft _your skin is so soft it's always so soft isn't it?_ pages of the book.

Finn let out a sigh, leaned back on the log. "I guess I'll come with."

Elliot rolled her eyes down at him but offered a hand anyway, because he was the only one who had offered her one when it had mattered the most.

A handsome man named ran to join them, young, and Finn was making moon eyes at him before they even got past the first foot of trees. His stepsister, Shannon, was the one who had pierced Elliot's ears with her obnoxious screaming and apparently the one who wanted to prove she could help. Elliot doubted it, but at least it would be fun to laugh at her with Finn.

The walk up the mountain was rough. Elliot was a good climber, agile and fast. But the roots and spiky vines that protruded from the rocks left her legs with scratches and bites like she was five again.

By the time they reached firm footing again the fighting between Sayid and the blonde man, who had forced himself into the group, had escalated to shouting. Finn kept poking Elliot in the side until she told him she wouldn't just cut off his fingers, but his feet and face too, and then how hard would it be to get the young Boone to like him.

He stopped, but bared his teeth at her in a smile anyway.

She glanced around to make sure no one was looking before sticking her tongue out in return.

That's when they heard the growl, deep and low, resonating through the tall grass.

Shannon started screaming.

"It's coming towards us! We need to go!" Kate yelled past the rustling of whatever hell beast was barreling towards them all.

Finn stumbled slightly but Elliot grabbed his arm, roughly pulled him forward by the thin skin of his wrist.

"Sawyer!" Kate gasped, turning back to look at the scruffy blonde who stood, feet planted firmly on the ground, immovable.

"Let him go," Sayid growled, grabbing Kate as Elliot had grabbed Finn and hauling her forward.

Two things happened simultaneously. A white ball of fur emerged from the grass, and Sawyer pulled a gun.

One. Two. Threefourfivesixseveneightnine. The shots rang out, deafening.

The monster collapsed, blood matting its white fur.

A polar bear. Elliot paled, fingers still clutching Finn's thin wrist. A polar bear. A mysterious island.

She knew exactly where they had crashed.


	3. Chapter 2

**And another. Please r&r!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, although I really, really wish I did. **

Chapter Two:

A memorial. They wanted to burn up the bodies, watch their own worlds go up in flames. Small deaths, every one of them.

Elliot was never one to dwell on death.

She had too many other things to do. She could see Finn in the crowd, swaying towards Boone, the pregnant girl called Claire reading off the names of the dead passengers. What mattered to Elliot was that she was alive, and so was Finn, and that was that.

So she slipped out in the cover of darkness, stars guiding her into the forest. She hiked for hours, only stopping for brief rests and drinks of water. She had told Finn where she was going but not why, and he hadn't asked. One of the things she loved about him. Exploration was enough explanation.

She wasn't exploring though, not really. She was going in with the intention of finding _them_.

_Them_ that she had grown up warned with, _them_ who were the characters of her bedtime stories, on the rare occasion she got any. _Them_ who had betrayed, _them_ who had killed, _them_ who would bleed.

She had gotten tired of hearing about _them_ after awhile, but it made her father happy, and that made her happy.

It was only after dawn was finally beginning to rise in the sky that she heard the rustle. She had stopped again, contemplating going back. People would notice her absence now, and even if Finn explained it off, he couldn't keep their curiosity at bay for too long. But then.

But then they came suddenly, swiftly, quietly bursting through the tree line. She was slow because of the heat, and there were far too many of them. She never stood a chance.

She kicked at the first one, slashing with the knife she had stolen from Sawyer when he wasn't looking. Judging from the sharp cry that broke the silence of the jungle she had made contact. She turned then, fist swinging to catch another in the jaw. They fell back and muttered an oath, and just as she pulled back to raise her foot in a kick, two pairs of hands grabbed her knife and easily restrained her beating, squirming body.

For all he had told her, in the end, she was only a girl.

Her breath came in heavy pants, but a smile still arched her face as her eyes latched onto the man who came to stand in front of her.

"Benjamin Linus. I would say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances..." she trailed off, shrugging as much as she could beneath restraining hands.

Be polite as you can, he had taught her. But never to them.

"Elliot Widmore," he replied, peering at her over the edge of his wire rimmed glasses. "Nice to finally put a voice to the name."

...

She awoke with a swift gasp, upper body jerking, arms flailing, hands clutching onto the first thing them came into contact with. A blanket, scratchy and etched with a familiar airline sign.

A persistent throbbing pulsed in her head, and she almost cursed out loud. Fucking bastard, Ben Linus was. Knocked her out as soon as they had exchanged a few empty promises, put her back right where she had come from.

_Not worth it, in the end, you weren't worth it because you're dirtyhelplessuglywrong. _

She shook her head, winced at the pang it brought. Scrambled from the tent and pushed her long hair from her face, scowling the whole way. Stupid, stupid man. He would pay for that.

"Oh, Elliot. You're awake," Jack glanced over from his spot just outside, scrambled up from the sand to intercept my pouting form.

Sayid, Kate and the Australian Charlie looked up as well, conversation with the good doctor interrupted.

"You're friend Finley was looking for you," Charlie squinted at her, nodding towards the other end of the beach.

"Yeah, thanks," she muttered, rubbing a hand down her face, head feeling as if it had been kicked a good few times.

"Finn said you'd gone into the jungle to explore a little, but Locke found you lying unconscious at the edge of the jungle a few hours ago. Do you remember what happened?" Jack stared down at her, eyes wide and innocently kind, too kind.

Kindness got one killed, in Elliot's world, at least.

She slid her teeth out to gnaw at her lower lip, lying easily. "Nope, no idea, sorry. My head hurts but I can't remember anything since the memorial."

"Really," Sayid's accent tinged voice sounded from below, disbelieving.

She turned her gaze to him, narrowing her eyes and resisting the urge to bare her teeth at him like an animal. What was his problem? Why couldn't he mind his own business?

"Really. Can I go now? Finn's probably...worried," she dragged out the last word, almost disbelieving it herself. Like he could be worried about her.

"Of course. Just be sure to tell me if you remember anything, or if something else seems off. I want to make sure you don't have a concussion" Jack smiled down at her.

She didn't smile back.

Only nodded her thanks, made her way towards the other end of the beach, to Finn, to familiar snark and the sound of home.


	4. Chapter 3

**Another chapter! I'm trying to get the rewrites up as soon as I can while I still have spring break, because I know after that things will slow down. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

Chapter Three:

They had been on the island for almost two weeks, and Elliot wanted off.

There was a plan to triangulate the receivers and pick up where the signal that had been broadcasting for sixteen years was coming from. Make up by Sayid, of course, technology extraordinaire.

She volunteered to go with them because she was bored, goddammit, and she had to do something. She loved Finn, but she was about ready to bit his head off if he made one more smart arse remark, and she had far too much at stake back home to be gone for so long.

There was also the fact that she didn't want her father interrogating her too much when she got back, if she got back. He had probably guessed, by now. He was a smart man after all, blood of her blood. Smart, and cruel, and not very loving.

Boone and Kate offered to go as well, and Finn's hand shot up like an arrow the moment his crush volunteered. Kate, Sayid and Elliot would walk through the jungle and split up with different receivers and the transmitter, while Finn and Boone would stay on the beach. At exactly five we would each set off fireworks, signaling they were ready.

Elliot was comfortable in silence, but Kate, nice girl that Elliot took her as, tried a few times to engage her in conversation. Elliot knew she put Kate off a bit. Too young, too odd, too cold. Not nice, like a normal teenager. Not _normal that's why I took you, you're special, not like the others_.

"So Elliot, you're eighteen, are you still in school?" Kate started, smiling awkwardly over at her.

"I'm a senior," she replied curtly, clutching the straps of her bag tighter.

"Senior year. I remember that. Party it up before you leave for college, right?" Kate smiled invitingly. "You gonna leave England to go to college, or are you going to stay there for university?"

"I go to school in Lost Angeles," Elliot muttered, fidgeting, eyes downcast, hands bloodless tight on her bag.

Kate stopped trying so hard, after that.

Kate and Sayid rambled on about inconsequential things for the next few minutes, before a rustle in the bushes interrupted them. They all froze, half turning in fear and curiosity, ugly, silly feelings that they were.

Instead of the boar they had all been expecting a different type of animal crashed into the small clearing grinning rakishly.

"I've come to help out," Sawyer was smiling, tilting his head so that blonde locks fell into his handsome face.

"We don't need help," Sayid told him tersely, and Elliot almost smiled. She liked his anger, when it wasn't directed at her.

"Well, you've got it. Why don't I go with freckles here and you and Brit can go your separate way with the transmitter, since you two are the tech geniuses. Sound good to you, cupcake?" he smiled at Elliot, who resisted the urge to bare her teeth back.

"That doesn't seem like a good-" Sayid started, but Kate cut him off.

"Fine. Let's just get to it. There's not much time and we have a lot of walking to do," she said, lips tightening as she avoided looking at Sawyer.

He started to the right, and Kate followed halfheartedly after him.

Sayid and Elliot walked in silence after that, reaching their destination in record time. It seemed, Elliot thought to herself, that awkwardness will do that to people. Make them hurry the fuck up.

Sayid's watch said that they still had an hour until five, so as he set up the bottle rocket Elliot took a seat in the sun warmed grass and pulled out her notebook.

"What are you doing?" Sayid's voice filtered through her intense concentration a few moments later, and she glanced up to see him sitting across from her, fingers drumming impatiently in the grass.

"Making a map," she answered low, looking back at the notebook and marking the area where the natives had met her a few days before.

"You think we'll be here long enough to need a map?" he asked, obviously disgruntled at the thought. Elliot almost smiled again.

She took a breath, lungs filling with fresh mountain air, and paused for a moment before answering. "I think it's a high possibility. Two weeks and no one has found us. That doesn't make for a very good situation, in my book."

He was silent for a few beats.

"You lied about not knowing what had happened to you before Locke found you in the jungle the other day," he said finally, and when she looked up his eyes were firm on hers, and she felt a flash of recognition surge through her throat, then nothing.

So she sighed, put down her pencil, clasped her hands beneath her chin, and fixed her gaze fully on him. Blue on brown, steady and heavy.

"Why would I possibly do such a thing?" she responded after a moment, once she had fully focused her attention and all her brain power towards him.

"I have no idea. But you did. I know a liar when I see one," he shrugged, eyes narrowing, but still holding tightly to her own.

She raised an eyebrow and finally let that feral smile she had been holding out, dimples creasing her cheeks. "I've found that often, liars can spot other liars. So what does that say about you?"

They stared at each other for a few moments, something silent but sharply _there_ crackling between their eyes for just a moment, before she pulled her gaze away.

She picked up the notebook again and began jotting down more trails, more trees, more names. They didn't speak for a long while.

"It's time," Sayid said after checking his watch an hour later, and he moved to light the bottle rocket. They stepped back as it fizzled and spit, leaving its cover in an explosion of black and red sparks as it rose to the darkening sky.

They waited until they saw the next rocket go off and Sayid turned the knob of the transmitter, laughing in delight when it blared with a signal.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes," he chanted, holding it up and grinning wide.

And just like that, everything went black.

...

"What happened?" Jack asked, cleaning up the wound on Sayid's head. Elliot sat, hand in palm, gritting her teeth against the onslaught of a vicious headache.

"I don't know," Sayid huffed in frustration, teeth baring in a way Elliot found all at once familiar and oddly disconcerting. "One moment we had a signal, and the next we woke up and it was gone, transmitter broken."

"Elliot?" Jack looked over, taking in her pained expression with concern creasing his friendly face.

She waved a hand towards Sayid, closed her eyes against the throbbing of her head. She felt as if she was being hit multiple times over her skull with a dull hammer.

"Yes, what he said. Why is everyone so _bloody_ loud?" she growled, eyes snapping open to glare at the people milling about the Adam and Eve cave Jack had found.

The doctor laughed. "It seems you're alright after all. Why don't you go back to the beach?"

Elliot trudged to the beach and Finn, who ran up to her the moment she stepped out of the cover of the trees, a grin wide on his face.

"It didn't work," she snarled when he reached her, and the smile melted from his face as he stared at her with concern.

"Okay. Are you alright?" he reached for her head, and she bent from beneath his touch.

"Fine. I need to lie down," she rubbed her tongue hard against her teeth to distract herself from the pain in her head.

He shrugged and pointed to their tent before traipsing back to Boone and his stepsister.

Elliot glared after his retreating blonde form with a fierce defiance before moving to the tent, curling onto her side, and falling into voluntary darkness.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hi all! Another chapter :) Hope everyone enjoys! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Finn and Elliot. **

Chapter Four:

She set out in the morning down the shoreline, sun barely peeping up, faint light rippling the water. She didn't venture into the jungle until midday, and by the time she sensed the very wrongness of the stillness of the trees and animals, her foot had already caught in the jagged teeth of some trap.

White pain seared her vision, and her world became shaky, vision blurring. She remembered, suddenly and with horror, a previous pain that she thought had been forgotten.

A pained whimper escaped her lips, and she fell to her knees, ankle twisting awkwardly as she tried to steady herself on her hands. She could see blood, red and sticky and hot, seeping from between the edges of the trap.

She thought she was going to die.

She heard a rustle, whipped her head around, and for the second time in two days, everything disappeared from her vision.

...

_"I could let you go, you know," he whispered, hot, heavy breath caressing her ear. _

_ She let herself feel a sliver of hope, fingers curling around the chains that held her in place. Maybe, this time, he'd mean it. Maybe he'd take the key and unlock the chains and she could crawl out of here, hurt but alive. _

_ "I could let you go, but I won't," he pulled away, a sickly grin coating his grimy face, yellow teeth cracking his jaw, and she cried and cried and cried, and he laughed and laughed and laughed. _

...

She awoke to the stale air of the earth and chains at her hands.

She could still feel the shooting pain in her ankle, and as her head cleared she realized that she is completely trapped to a bed, locked in tight.

She gasped out a breath, pulled at the chains until her wrists are raw, but it is no use. Tears stream from her eyes as panic takes over, enveloping her brain with the pumping, pulsing thread of adrenaline and survival that's engrained into every animal with a living, beating heart.

"If you do not struggle so much, it will not hurt," a woman's voice tinged with a heavy french accent filtered through her panic.

She still gasps in those great breaths, keeps pulling, eyes searching blindly for the source of the voice. A woman, dirty and wild, comes into view by the foot of the bed.

"Please, s'il vous plaît, please," Elliot tries her native language but just breaks down into sobs again.

Inside, in a place where he hadn't gotten to, she is ashamed. She is ashamed at the blubbering mess of feelings and fear she has become, because she knows that she is stronger than this. She survived that horrible place for seven months. She can survive this.

"Do you know where my Alex is? Do you?" the woman hisses, striding closer and gazing down, eyes harsh and untamed.

"No! Please, please, I was on a plane crash, I'll give you whatever you want, please," Elliot gasps, pulling harder and harsher and please, she has to get out, she can't do this again, she won't survive it this time, she knows deep down in her gut.

"Fine," the woman relents, backing up.

Relief spills through Elliot. The woman is going to get keys. She is going to be okay.

Instead pain sears through her whole body again, and she is pushed back into her dreams with a heavy shout.

When she awakes again, she has gained more control over her reaction to the chains. She keeps her eyes closed, teeth firmly snapped together. Her brain has cleared some, and she can hear a familiar voice in the background, accent mixing with the french woman's.

Sayid. She caught him too.

The french woman is murmuring a low reply to whatever Sayid had just said, when she stops, and a heavy silence falls across the room.

"Ah. So she finally awakens. Est-ce que vous veulent parler maintenant, petite fille? _Do you want to talk now, little girl_?" the woman's voice cuts her ears like glass, and Elliot's eyes snap open to glare at her.

She says not a word. She will not let the woman have the satisfaction.

Just as the woman opens her mouth again, a creaking noise sounds from above, followed by the heavy rustling of many trees being disturbed. The woman freezes, looking up for a minute that seems endless in Elliot's head, before rushing to grab a gun.

Elliot tenses but the woman is gone through a door in the ceiling in seconds, bamboo slamming down behind her.

Elliot lets out a hard breath and finally lets her body relax. "Any chance you can get me out of here?" she shoots towards Sayid.

There is a pause before she hears footsteps, and she finally takes in his dark, hovering form, like some avenging angel above her. He doesn't meet her eyes and goes right to work picking the lock to her chains, skin brushing hers, and she resists the urge to clench her fingers on his wrist. She needs contact, she finds with a frown and a feeling of disgust. Elliot doesn't like to need anything.

He finally gets her free and she shoots up, letting her feet plant down hard on the dirt floor. Her breath is finally returning to normal, even as she rubs her wrists, red and aching.

"We need to go," he turns, perusing the selection of guns that lines one wall.

She pushes off the bed, a small whimper escaping her lips before she falls right back down. She bites her lip and slips out of her trainer and sock, eyes widening at the sight of her bloody ankle.

Sayid turns, gun in hand, impatience painting his face. "What's-oh. Are you alright?" he asks, kneeling by the bed and grabbing her ankle.

Her breath hisses out through clenched teeth, both at the pain and his hands on her skin. She didn't like to be touched without warning, and he seemed extremely apt to do that.

"My foot was caught in one of her traps," Elliot explained without looking at him.

"Can you walk?" he asked, looking up. For once she can sense sympathy in his tone, and she hates it.

"I'll be fine. Let's just go before she gets back," Elliot mutters, rocking forward again, and this time she remains standing, face stony.

Sayid nods and moves to open the bamboo door, climbing out. She follows, limping heavily once they reach muddy ground.

The noise grows louder as they headed towards what Elliot assumes to be the beach. She is a bit too disoriented to find her way, and trusts Sayid with the directions enough.

She swallowed hard as she stumbles, but doesn't let out a sound. She cannot show weakness, she learned that at a very young age.

It happens unexpectedly, suddenly.

The island finds them.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hi all! This chapter gets a bit of a rush through at the end because I'm trying to finish up with the season. I said in my earlier draft of this piece that I'm basically going to go canon until they get off the island, and that's where I have a lot of plans for these characters! So sorry if things feel a bit rushed. Enjoy :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

Chapter Five:

_She crawls across the floor, ripped jeans sliding against the dirty cement. She had to be quiet. She didn't want him to hear her. If he found her now, she would be punished. Her back still stung from the last time. _

_ She is two feet from the door, one. Arrives at the faded slab of wood, reaches to turn the knob ever so slowly with hands coated black with dust. It creaks a little when she pushes it, and she freezes, listening for the sound of heavy footsteps. Instead she hears only the chirp of the crickets and the scurry of mice that inhabit the hell with her. _

_ She swallows hard past the fear and pain in her wrists. They throb and ooze blood from her escape, ropes hanging empty by the radiator. She opens the door a little more and slips through, starts climbing the stairs. She is almost there, reaching for the door that leads to her freedom. She can imagine sunlight on her face and the laughter of her sister in her ears. She can imagine the feel of wet grass beneath the soles of her feet and the endlessly blue sky. God, she misses the sun and the sky. She hasn't seen them in weeks. _

_ Just as her hands touch the knob, she hears him. _

_ "Come out, little girl. Come out, come out, wherever you are," he whispers, voice wet and dirty. She hates his voice. It makes her think of the basement she's been kept in, tied and alone in the dark, for the past few weeks. _

_ She huddles in the dark corner by the door. She can hear his footsteps clomp around the cement, pause when they see the door leading to the stairs partially open. _

_ He starts up the stairs. _

_ "Elliot," she hears someone whisper her name in the shadows. "Elliot. Elliot." _

"Elliot. Wake up."

She gasps, surges forward. An arm is there to steady her almost immediately, and she sinks into the familiarity of her best friends shoulder, head heavy. The tears come, unbidden. Her wrists throb against the blanket that's crumpled by her feet. it reminds her of the dream, of the memory, of the ugly things that hide in the dark. It reminds her that she's too scared to close her goddamn eyes because of what she might see behind them.

"Sorry," she whispers into Finn's shirt, sniffing and composing herself before pulling back.

"It's okay," he whispers back, eyes showing only the flickering light of a dying fire and concern. Elliot feels that pang of guilt again, the pang that reminds her that she doesn't deserve Finn's friendship, or his worry. "The dream, again?"

She nods her reply and looks away to the ocean. The frothy waves are pulling at the sand, and the moon reflects back on the water, reminding her that she is on the island and not caught in some dark room she hasn't though of in days.

"I'm sorry," he says this time, and hands her a sweatshirt. When she doesn't take it he wraps it around her shoulders.

Her stand in mother, Finn is. Caring despite his heavily lined eyes and moody pout, and far kinder than he can ever imagine to Elliot.

"Not your fault. Not anyone's fault, really," she sighs, pulls the sweatshirt close and buries her nose in its familiar scent.

"Do you want to try to sleep again?" Finn asks quietly.

"No," she rubs her eyes, runs a hand through long, tangled locks. "But you go back to sleep, I'll just go find a quiet place to read."

"Okay," he whispers, eyes searching her face and finding nothing there. She is back to herself, cold and distant, the nightmare a distant thing.

Only it's not. It never is.

Finn moves back and lies down, closes his eyes. He's drifted off again in seconds.

Elliot sighs again and ruffles through her things to grab a book, stands and walks to the trees. She goes a few feet into the jungle and turns right, into a small clearing she had found a few days before. It had quickly become her favorite reading spot. She sat by a tree and turned on the flashlight she had brought, shining it on dark pages.

Instead of reading, her thoughts drifted back to the nightmare and the day before.

If she had to guess and analyze herself like a therapist was paid to, Elliot would have said that being tied up in the french woman's home was what had spurred the dream.

She clenched the jaw, tried to focus again on the words of the page in front of her. She wouldn't think about it, because she wasn't weak.

His footsteps were hidden by the soft dirt, and she guessed that's why she didn't hear him at first. Not until he cleared his throat, and then her head shot up, body tense and ready for a fight.

"Oh. Hello," she blinked steadily up at Sayid, moving to stand. "Can you see the light from the beach? I didn't think-"

"No," he cut her off, looking around uncomfortably. "I couldn't sleep and went for a walk. I'm guessing you did the same."

She shrugged, sank back down and looked at her book, though didn't return to reading. "I don't sleep much anyway."

He was silent for a few moments, before opening his mouth hesitantly. "When we ran into the monster, did you-did you hear it say anything?"

Elliot put her book down slowly, didn't let her eyes meet his. "What kind of things?"

_Things like whispers? Whispers that asked if you were truly ready for what was ahead, if you were ready to answer his questions? If you were ready to disappoint him, again? _she thought.

"Whispers," he replied bluntly, echoing her internal musings.

"Yes. I heard the whispers," she sucked in her lower lip, eyes glancing towards the tree at the back of his dark form. "Why do you ask?"

"Don't you think it's odd? This thought of smoke monsters and whispers and a woman living on the island? And that no one has found us yet?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes down at her.

Her mouth quirked to the side. "Don't you believe in monsters?"

"Not the smoke kind. The human kind, I believe in only too much," he said softly in reply.

Elliot paused, furrowed her brows as she finally met his eyes. "Well, I wouldn't say I believed in them, before. Now we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

"I guess not," he let the words sink in, staring contemplatively at the ground. "I'll let you continue your book. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she looked back down and turned a page, although she still wasn't reading any of the words. She didn't look back up again until she was sure he was gone.

...

Sayid's new girlfriends brother had died.

Elliot wasn't much to dwell on the dead, though. No use, in her mind. Dead is dead and there wasn't much anyone could do about it. The dead were weak, and Elliot was not, and that was all there was to say about it.

Finn was angry, and sad. He didn't show it much, but Elliot could tell by the way he skulked around for the days after it happened, even with the news that there was a 'hatch' Locke and Boone had been hiding the whole time. Elliot knew, but she didn't know how to comfort him. She had never been good at the mothering part, and she avoided Finn for those few days until she had to speak to him because seeing him sad made her sad, in a way, and awkward.

And then Rousseau showed up unannounced. And everything for Elliot went to shit.

She told them they needed to fight, or run, or hide. And in a fight, they would lose. Elliot didn't doubt it, no matter how much she hated the woman on sight. Benjamin Linus was a smart man, from what her father had told her, and he was often right.

After Rousseau left the beach erupted in chaos. Elliot took the chance to sneak to the hatch, found its exact coordinates on her map, and tried to pry the door open. It didn't budge, of course. She tried searching for a handle but found nothing, and just when she was about to scream out her frustration, she heard a small group grappling through the trees.

Lock, Jack, Kate and Hurley emerged from the trees, arguing as usual. They had brought dynamite, but apparently Hurley was firmly against blowing it up. Something about 'the number's being bad' or some other such nonsense. Elliot thought they were all crazy, and that was saying a lot, coming from her.

They ended up blowing the thing up anyway.

A ladder lay against a metal wall, pitch black beneath. It made Elliot squirm.

She wanted to know what was down there just as much as the next person, but she couldn't bare the thought of braving the dark unknown. Weak, maybe, but at least she didn't show it. She just stepped back, let someone else go first. Sacrifice for the masses.

In the end, Locke and Jack went down first. Elliot sat with the others, waiting for them to return with news, any news.

And what they brought would change everything.


	7. Chapter 6

**Hi guys! So sorry I haven't posted in forever, I've been insanely busy. But the school year is winding down, and I'll finally be able to work on this again and devote the time it deserves :) Thank you so much for everyone who's still reading! Reviews are always appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Elliot **

Chapter Six:

She met him when she descended into darkness.

Her hands shook on the railings, but she held strong, and when she finally reached the ground it was to see a man holding a gun to Locke's head.

The man whirled to face her with a wild, animal look in his eyes, and Elliot just stared and stared and stared.

"Who are you?" he snarled.

"Elliot Mason," she lied easily, stealing Finn's surname without a thought. "Nice to meet the mystery man Locke's been looking after for the past month."

"Were you on the plane?" the man flourished the gun at her, pushed Locke away.

Elliot flinched back, just barely but there. Don't show fear, she reminded herself. Fear gets you killed.

"Yes. What's going on here?" she raised an eyebrow and let him spin his story, even though she knew how it was going to end.

She ignored the video he pulled out after, focused her attention on the man. Shoulder length brown hair, heavy Scottish accent. She knew who he was, of course, had seen pictures of him. Had hated him for the love he gave the one woman Elliot wanted to deny it; never cared when he'd disappeared.

The shooting started, then. The old computer broke easily. He ran.

She never got to ask him any questions.

"We need someone to fix it. Elliot, you're good with that, right?" Locke instructed, scooping up the gun that Desmond, of course it was Desmond, had left behind.

"Of course. Computers built after my birth. I never learned to fix anything that was made before my time," Elliot roller her eyes and glanced with a little hesitation towards the clock counting down.

"Get Sayid. He may know how to fix it," Locke threw the words at Jack, who climbed back up to the ground world with ease, eager to escape the strange world they had found underneath the hatch.

The moment Sayid arrived the started barking out instructions. Elliot stood to the side, arms crossed and back against he cold metal wall that had held the blood of her blood's fiancé for so long, a lifetime.

And still she felt nothing.

"You can't help?" Sayid almost growled over to her as he inspected the computer.

She shrugged lazily, let her eyes run over the old machine. "You seem to have it covered. I told Locke, I don't really know much about computers before my time."

"Folly of the young," he muttered as he worked, jaw clenched in obvious annoyance.

She smiled.

He fixed it, eventually. And Jack came to press the numbers in, too. The world didn't explode, and nothing monumentally universe changing happened except that suddenly, people had new jobs.

Overall, the next few days were uneventful. People had the food that had been discovered in the hatch, and generally, they were happy. Boone's death was forgotten easily, in the end.

But there was no such thing as happy, on the island. Elliot wished everyone would remember that.

Blood followed blood, it seemed, and Shannon was dead.

A few people seemed distraught. Two siblings, right in a row. Seemed odd, not coincidental, Elliot thought. But no one asked her.

The people from the tail of the plane were found, as well, and turned out to be a terrible omen. The leader had shot Shannon.

Elliot didn't attend the funeral. Instead she sequestered herself away in the little clearing she had come to call her own, with a notebook and a pencil, and waited it out. She hated funerals. She didn't want to hear sentimental words spoken by anyone that had cried when the girl was gone. She didn't like tears.

Sayid burst through the trees, breathing heavily, suddenly, there. Froze when he saw Elliot.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, striding to her now with purpose.

She scrambled to a standing position, held her head high. Regal, almost, like a queen about to destroy her enemies.

"What are _you_ doing here? Isn't there a funeral you should be attending?" Elliot countered coldly.

His teeth ground together so loudly she could hear it.

"It's done. You didn't have the good graces to attend, I see, unlike Finley. It makes me wonder why he'd choose someone like you as a friend in the first place," he hissed at her, and she almost crumpled with rage and regret, because yes, she often wondered the same thing.

"Why do you care if I was there or not?" Elliot shot back, crossing her arms defensively.

"It's respectful," he snarled, anger coloring his skin red. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you. And now you have the audacity to mock me. Disgusting."

She stood in shocked silence for a few moments, staring up at him.

"Excuse me? _I_ have the audacity? You were the one who bloody barged in here like a raving lunatic. I was just enjoying my time alone before you decided to come and interrupt me. Bloody fucking idiot," she muttered, pushing past him and scowling at the dirt as she walked away.

She could barely resist growling back at the man, composure lost. He didn't _know_ her. He acted like she'd never felt the stab of loss before, never felt the way grief clutched her heart in a painfully tight grip. She hated him for it.

Elliot took a seat next to Finn, who looked over and grinned at her before going back to the book he was reading.

She put her head down on her raised knees and closed her eyes, letting herself drift off to the sound of waves crashing on the sand.


End file.
